Halloween proved to be
interesting subject matter for her students: Amelia
set several research projects on the recent Muggle perception of the festival
and the wizarding community, resulting in several side-splitting presentations
from both her first and fifth years. On the final set of lessons before Samhain
she showed Halloween films roughly appropriate to each year group, with
unexpected assistance of Argus Filch and an ingenious clockwork and magical
projector that he’d apparently been working on for years in secret.

She noticed that some of the
Professors were sneaking in to watch the films in their free periods; Amelia
guessed that movie going wasn’t a luxury frequently enjoyed by the wizarding
community.

With this in mind, and in view of
the open hilarity which greeted the Muggle portrayal of their world, Amelia
proposed to Professor Dumbledore
that they show a Halloween film for the whole school, in respect of the
festival.

“That’s not a bad idea you know,”
the Headmaster said, munching thoughtfully on some kind of sweet. They were sat
in his office on Thursday morning, watching the rain drops lazily travel down
the panes of glass in the window.

“I’m always trying to encourage
people’s understanding of the Muggle world, a good flick would be a novel way
to get them all thinking,” he continued. “Do you have anything in mind?”

Amelia
considered this for a moment before saying, “Well, it can’t be anything too
gory – I mean I’m all for a good scare, but still…” she glanced at the open
newspaper on the Headmaster’s desk. Black had again been
sighted, this time at Dovetown, only a few miles from Hogsmeade; this news had
provoked what could only be described as excitement amongst the Dementors. Only
the evening before Minerva had confided in her that she was worried
they’d want to search the school – not a thought which much appealed to anyone.

“No indeed,” said Dumbledore, and
she was certain that for a moment he too glanced at the screaming face of the
escaped convict. “Something funnier, perhaps.”

“Funny, but not overly soppy…
something that the first-years will get but that the seventh-years won’t find
to childish…” she thought for a moment; options flicking past her mind’s eye
like the film they were played upon.

“I’ve got it!” she exclaimed.
“Hocus Pocus. It’s a little old fashioned in terms of evil witches attempting
to eat children,” – behind his desk, Dumbledore chuckled – “but it’s funny as
hell – and the good guys win in the end.”

“That sounds perfect. Now, I
don’t think we should show it during the feast, and Halloween is Hogsmeade
weekend, so if you show it during the day hardly anyone will attend. How about
tomorrow evening? Can you be ready by then?”

Amelia
was fleetingly reminded of the demands of stage managing, and just how much she
enjoyed running around fixing last minute hitches.

“I don’t see why not,” she
smiled.

“Good. I’ll announce it this
evening, shall I?” he asked, eyes twinkling.

0o0o0o0

Amelia
was impressed at the buzz her proposal had caused in the school. By midday on Friday, several people had popped
into her office to congratulate her on, as Martin
Dockrill put it: “A capital idea, my girl!”

Even Severus has
visited early in the afternoon, though his furtive glances towards the door
suggested that he had an ulterior motive. So it was that when Lupin knocked on
her door shortly before dinner, she was not particularly surprised.

“Hocus Pocus?” he asked, moving
aside a stack of marking from a chair before settling himself down.

“It’s a very silly film.”

“Good though?”

“Still makes me laugh – though I
admit that isn’t difficult.”

“I heard one of the fourth-years
complaining that it’s a children’s film.” He put his head slightly to one side
as if he were analysing her answer. The effect was somewhere between
disconcerting and adorable.

“And?” she challenged. “A good
proportion of the inhabitants of this school are children,” she chuckled,
“anyway, I used to watch it with the craft club in University. It’s pretty
damn’ funny. There’s an angry zombie and everything.”

Remus frowned, feeling that he
was on slightly more familiar territory here. “How can a zombie be angry?
They’re devoid of emotion.”

Amelia
grinned, “Not this one!”

0o0o0o0

The film was an immense success,
enjoyed both by the students and staff. People seemed to be amused by both the
attitude towards witchcraft and the characters of the witches themselves; many
of the staff and more diligent students could be found merrily discussing the
implausibility of most of the narrative.

Amelia
quickly found herself dragged off into a corner by Pomona,
Poppy and – for some reason – Minerva; the former were
discussing the plot, Minerva occasionally interjecting
observations with an amused expression.

After a few minute of what could
be referred to as critical analysis Amelia excused herself to help Argus clear
up and thank him for his help; as she went to leave Minerva touched her arm
briefly.

“We’re going for a drink in
Hogsmeade tomorrow, if you’d care to join us – I’d like to discuss a few
things.”

Amelia,
though pleased at the invitation, was a little perplexed at Minerva’s
chosen turn of phrase, but nonetheless she quickly acquiesced.

“3
o’clock at the Three Broomsticks?”

“I’ll be there,” she nodded as
she walked towards the far end of the hall where Mrs
Norris had become entangled in some of the
equipment. There was a fair amount of cursing emanating from Argus Filch, who
was trying to free her.

Once the cat was freed (and
clinging to Filch’s shoulders), it didn’t take long to pack up the equipment
and, leaving Filch muttering about Peeves and broom closets, she began to
stroll to the library with the idea of picking up some bedtime reading. She was
met at the door by Severus, who had apparently had the same
thought.

“Not bad, Brown,” he said,
nodding as he passed her, sneer still meticulously in place. “I may even use it
– my seventh years are starting rejuvenation potions this week.”

Amelia
smiled and let him pass, robes billowing out behind him, pausing at the end of
the corridor to snarl at some sullen-looking fourth-years before swooshing
around the corner. She shook her head; he really was an odd man at times.

Heading back up to her rooms she
encountered a sleepy-looking Remus Lupin, carrying a bowl of ice-cream back
from the kitchens.

“Evening,” she greeted; he smiled
in response. He couldn’t help it around her, he realised. Deciding to put that
one aside for later examination, he gestured at the tome in her arms with his
illicit snackage.

“A bit of light bedtime reading?”
he enquired.

“Something like that; I miss my
iPod.”

There was a pause.

“Some kind of exotic plant,
perhaps?”

Amelia
laughed.

“It’s a Muggle device that plays
music. Something about magic messes with it – and my computer.”

“It’s odd how that works,” he
said, nodding. “Electricity and magic have never been particularly
co-operative.”

“Probably something to do with
being elemental forces or something.”

Remus nodded. He liked they way
she spoke as well, he realised; her peculiar turn of phrase was really quite
refreshing.

“Filius suggested a few charms
that could be used to insulate them, but I wanted to check they’d be ok first –
there’s a lot of memories in them, you know. All my life before I got here,”
she finished, quietly.

“I can see why you’d want to be
careful.”

They walked on quietly for a
while, Amelia humming an old tune to herself, Remus contemplating what precious
moments could be sealed in the two mysterious electronic devices that were
somewhere in his friend’s quarters. They could work something like a
Pensieve, he mused.

“How’s your spellwork coming on,
by the way?” he asked, as they started up the main staircase.

“Leaps and bounds, I think. I
just seem to pick things up – though I suppose having Hermione as a cousin
helps. She’s pretty bright when it comes to this stuff, gives me a good
background to work from.”

“That’s good.”

“Well, I think so. Plus it gives
me the opportunity to get to know people a bit better.”

“Yes. I heard that Severus
was giving you Potions tuition.”

There was something odd about the
way Remus had said ‘tuition’.

“He has; he really knows his
stuff.” In truth, Amelia had been enjoying her
fortnightly Potions sessions. She missed cooking, to an extent – and the House
Elves were offended if she tried to do it herself, but she was also intrigued
by the enigmatic if severe Potions Master. She’d managed to break through his
mask a couple more times now, and had delightedly discovered a wonderfully dry
sense of humour.

Something seemed to be bothering
Remus, and they didn’t speak again until they reached the door to his office.

“Are you heading into Hogsmeade
tomorrow?” Amelia asked, trying to break him out
of this unaccustomed brusqueness. Her question appeared to soften his
expression slightly.

“No, sorry.”

“Oh. I was hoping you’d give me
that tour you promised,” she said, a little disappointed.

“Some other time, perhaps. I have
to wait in for a delivery – I’m getting a Grindylow in this week.” There was
disappointment in his voice, too, she noted.

“Another ‘dark’ creature?” she
prompted.

“Indeed.”

“Sounds squidgy.” She wrinkled
her nose at a mental image. “Anyway, to bed.” She gave him an awkward smile
before setting off along the passage.

“Amelia?”
Remus called after her. She turned, wearing a questioning look. “It still
wasn’t a zombie…”

The corners of their mouths
twitched slightly, awkwardness gone.

0o0o0o0

The next day dawned bright and
cold, and Amelia rose early. The Great Hall was
bustling with activity – students were everywhere, chattering and laughing
excitedly, most of them completely occupied with plans for their day of
freedom.

As Amelia
had decided to take a leisurely breakfast, she hadn’t left the Hall as the
first and second years, who weren’t allowed out of the grounds, began to
trickle back to their respective common rooms.

As she made her way down the
front steps, she heard Harry saying goodbye to Ron
and Hermione and watched him stomp back up the stairs, clearly in something of
a funk. Her cousin had told her about Uncle Vernon’s
reluctance to sign the permission form after he’d blown up Aunt
Marge, and then abandoned Amelia
to a fresh bout of laughter at the thought of the voluminous woman floating
around the rooftops of Surrey with a faintly
disapproving air.

She meandered along the path
towards the village, enjoying the sound of the wind in the trees and the
laughter of the children in front of her – though she was careful not to listen
too closely to their words.

Hermione and Ron
dropped back out of the chattering crowd to walk with Amelia
and they spent a pleasant quarter of an hour idly chattering about nothing in
particular. She left them at the edge of the village, where they excitedly
headed towards Honeydukes; Amelia wandered to
the first shop window. The displays inside were bright and cheerful and
generally ignored by the majority of the students (though she suspected that
her cousin would be back shortly).

She spent some time in the
knitting shop, restocking her yarn stash and picking up some new patterns for
Christmas makes. Deciding to take an early lunch in order to avoid the crowds,
she headed for an unobtrusive looking café opposite an overly pink tearoom full
of dewy eyed couples. This room, however, was rather emptier and had the feel
of a place where the locals went out to eat. She settled in a corner near the
window, where the weak October light mingled with the warm glow of the
candlelight, and tucked into a hearty chicken and red pepper salad.

It wasn’t long before she noticed
a dark form in the gloomiest corner of the café; she got the rather unsettling
feeling that she was being watched. She frowned, making an effort to ignore
this unwelcome intrusion into an otherwise enjoyable meal, and continued to
gaze out of the window at the hordes of Hogwarts students milling about the
street.

Fully engaged in this, Amelia
failed to notice the shadow detach itself from the far wall and walk towards
her. She looked up as Severus reached her table, glancing for
a second at the space where he had previously been lurking.

0o0o0o0

It was nearly three by the time Amelia
remembered her commitment to meet Minerva at the Three
Broomsticks. She made some hasty arrangements with Severus to
meet up later (which suited him, she discovered, since he had plans to harangue
the keeper of the Apothecary) and headed towards that infamous tavern.

When she arrived, a little out of
breath, Minerva was waiting for her alone and instantly
apologised for ‘luring’ her here under false pretences.

“I wanted to discuss your
progress – without the others eavesdropping. They’re probably in Madame
Puddifoots…” she explained, staring guiltily
into her gillywater.

“Well,” said Amelia,
deciding not to take offence. “You didn’t actually fool me… we are both in the
Three Broomsticks, and both having a drink,” she said, motioning to Madame
Rosmerta to bring her a butterbeer.

Minerva looked
relieved and offered her a genuine smile before beginning.

“The thing is, Amelia,
your rate of learning far surpasses expectation – it’s as if you’ve simply
always known these things,” she paused, and looked directly at Amelia.
“And frankly, it worries me.”

Amelia
considered this for a moment.

“I think it worries me too.
Hermione tells me I notice things that I shouldn’t – it’s like I can see how a
spell works just by looking.” Minerva raised an intellectual
eyebrow.

“That may be a talent worth
investigating…”

“Is it something to do with my…
‘reading’?” Amelia asked, suddenly conscious of
the number of people in the bustling pub.

“That is likely,” Minerva
replied, considering this. “It’s hard to know sometimes, most readers keep
their skills to themselves… reading tends to make other wizards, well,
nervous.”

Amelia
nodded, she couldn’t imagine anyone being entirely comfortable around someone
who is essentially a telepath.

“You’re worried about what other
people will think if they see how quickly I’m learning,” she said. It wasn’t a
question.

“Simply put, yes,” Minerva
replied. She was, truth be told, rather impressed by the younger witch’s
attitude towards her new difficulties. “If it’s alright with you, I would like
to meet with you every couple of weeks, just to take a look at your progress,
that sort of thing.”

“A more paranoid person would
suggest that you’re keeping a close eye on me,” Amelia
smiled, wryly.

Minerva smiled
back in understanding, “You work in a school for which I have responsibility.”

“Damn’ straight.”

Minerva’s smile
grew more crafty, Amelia wondered just how much
mischief this witch got up to when term was out.

“Plus it would be an interesting
opportunity to study a… talent… of this ilk.”

Amelia
grinned. It felt a little odd to be a test subject, but she would relish the
opportunity to learn more about her magic.

The pair stayed long enough to
discuss dates and, to Amelia’s amusement,
possible homework, before going their separate ways. She met up with Severus
once more at the dingy pub at the end of the street.

0o0o0o0

Darkness was gathering as they
made their way back up to the castle, Severus insisting upon
escorting her to the main doors before heading down to the dungeons to freshen
up. Remembering Remus’s promise of an introduction to a Grindylow, whatever that
was, she hurried up to his office with only an hour to spare before the feast,
contentedly humming This is Halloween.

Remus was finishing marking some
second-year essays on Kelpies when Amelia
knocked on his door; the Grindylow, a sickly-green creature with sharp little
horns, was squelching quietly to itself in the corner.

“Evening,” he said, moving on to
the next paper.

“Is that the Grindylow?” she
asked, crossing to the tank.

“Yes,” he replied, without
looking up.

Amelia
regarded it with some trepidation; it had its ghastly face pressed against the
glass and was pulling faces and flexing its long, spindly fingers.

“It is squidgy,” she said,
a little disturbed.

Remus chuckled at her assessment,
looking up from his paperwork.

“Unpleasant creatures, really.
They lure people into marshes and, well,” he indicated the Grindylow’s hands
with the tip of his quill. “Brittle fingers, though – most people panic and try
to lash out for the head, but the trick is to break its grip.”

He watched her as she pulled a
face at the currently bewildered Grindylow which, apparently startled by this
unusual response, dived into a tangle of weeds at the back of the tank. He
could just see its worried eyes staring out at her.

“Did you have a good day out? I’m
sorry I couldn’t give you that tour…”

“Oh it was great, actually –
managed to find a replacement tour guide for a while, too,” she smiled.

“Oh, who?”

“Severus.” She
moved to the side of the tank to get a better view of Lupin’s bizarre new
acquisition.

His eyebrows disappeared behind
his fringe.

“Severus?” he
repeated, incredulously.

“Yes, he’s quite knowledgeable
about the place, as it turns out. He even put up with the drivel about knitting
patterns,” she laughed, watching the Grindylow squirm around so it could keep
this worrying human in sight, subsequently missing the shadow cross Remus’s
face.

He glanced at the clock. “Er,
shouldn’t we be heading down to the feast? It’s getting on for time.” Amelia
started.

“Oh yes, sorry – I was getting a
little carried away!” she said, suddenly remembering something. “Actually, I’ve
just got to pop up to my room for a minute, shall I meet you there?”

“Er, yes, I suppose…”

“Ace!” she grinned and dashed
off, leaving him stood, stunned and more than a little miffed in the middle of
the room, staring after her, hands in pockets.

I will not be jealous
of SeverusSnape,
he said to himself, sternly.

The Grindylow blew a raspberry at
him.

“Oh, shut up,” he said,
irritably, before setting off for the Great Hall.

0o0o0o0

She was unsurprised to find
Hermione waiting for her outside her rooms and she let the younger witch in,
both of them happily chattering about their day. Working quickly, Hermione
cleared a space on the living room windowsill facing the sunset, while Amelia
went to her chest of drawers in the next room, neither pausing their
conversation until the older witch returned, a simple wooden box in hand.

They both took out a candle, one
white and one purple, and set them in the windowsill. Hermione lit her candle
with her wand, saying “For every one that goes below, another remains above.”

Her cousin, deciding to use the
matches that were in the box among the candles, lit hers, saying “For those we
have lost, be found tonight. These candles lead you home.”

The two of them were quiet for a
moment before they cleared away the candle box and resumed their conversation.
Together, they headed down to the Great Hall, leaving the wicks to burn down
alone.

For a moment, though all was
still in the room, the candles guttered for a moment, spilling droplets of wax
onto the stone beneath them.

0o0o0o0

Hermione met Ron
and Harry in the entrance hall, and as Amelia
headed up to the high table, Harry told her and Ron
about the mysterious potion that Snape had fed to Lupin that morning.

As much as she distrusted Professor
Snape, Hermione could not quite believe that
he would try to murder another teacher. Logic failing with her friends, as it
sometimes did, she attempted reason.

“But if he – you know –” Hermione
dropped her voice, glancing nervously around, “if he was trying to – to poison
Lupin – he wouldn’t have done it in front of Harry.”

“Yeah, maybe,” said Harry,
doubtfully, as they reached the Great Hall. It had been decorated with hundreds
and hundreds of candle-filled pumpkins, a cloud of fluttering live bats and
many flaming orange streamers, which were swimming lazily across the stormy
ceiling like brilliant watersnakes. She glanced up at her cousin, who was
looking distinctly impressed by the general splendour. Hermione had to hand it
to her teachers, when it came to Halloween parties they couldn’t be beaten.

The food was delicious; even she
and Ron, full as they were with Honeydukes
sweets, managed second helpings of everything. As they ate, Hermione noticed Harry
glancing furtively towards the staff table; she followed his line of sight. Professor
Lupin looked cheerful and well as he ever
did; he was talking animatedly to tiny little Professor
Flitwick, the Charms teacher. She couldn’t
help noticing that the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher’s gaze kept
flicking down the table towards her cousin.

Amelia
herself was engaged in conversation with Professor
Snape and Professor
Sprout, oblivious to this attention. Was she
imagining it, or were Snape’s eyes flickering towards Lupin more frequently
than was natural? She looked back at Lupin, whose gaze was now firmly fixed on
her cousin and the Potions Master.

Oh good grief, she
thought. It seemed that Amelia’s knack for
getting herself into trouble had once again resurfaced. This revelation in
mind, Hermione began to consider the possibility of academic poisoning with
slightly more concern.

0o0o0o0

The pudding, which was delicious
as usual, was interrupted by the school ghosts, who burst through the walls and
performed an aerial display that was much enjoyed by the staff and somewhat
surprised students. Conversation continued to burble at the high table as the
students thinned out and headed for bed.

As more people left the hall Amelia
found herself becoming more and more lethargic; it had been a long day. Soon,
she, Severus, Lupin and Pomona
were the only ones left at the high table, and even their conversation was
beginning to lag, Pomona and Lupin
clearly stunned at Severus’ unusual verbosity. Pomona
was also a little worried by the unfamiliar and unpleasant expression that
crossed Lupin’s face whenever Severus turned to speak to Amelia.

As they left the Great Hall they
were surprised to come across a mass of Gryffindor students, chattering
excitedly as they made their way back down the stairs. Percy
Weasley, pomposity tempered slightly by
anxiety, took Severus and Pomona
to one side and they hurried out, wands ready.

Amelia
and Remus shared a look and took their own wands out. Leaving Remus to harangue
the Head Boy, Amelia took off into the Great
Hall and accosted her cousin, pulling her to one side she demanded, “Would you
like to tell me why the heads of house are running around, wands drawn?”

Hermione, looking unnerved,
quickly responded, “It’s the Fat Lady – the Gryffindor portrait? Apparently
Sirius Black tried to get into the tower and when she refused to let him in –
well he slashed her painting.”

“Holy crap!” exclaimed Amelia,
unable to stop herself. “Is she alright?”

Hermione shook her head, “She’s
in a bad way… but Dumbledore thinks it’s fixable.”

Amelia
frowned.

“I’d better go – you be careful,”
she ordered, and on her cousin’s nod hurried towards the Gryffindor tower;
floods of students were making their way back to the Great Hall to join their
classmates. With a touch of concern she noted that Remus was nowhere to be
seen.

At the entrance to the tower she
met Poppy, Minerva and Filch; the latter was grumbling far too
cheerfully about the night’s events for her taste. It didn’t escape her notice
that her two female colleagues both had their wands out.

“Anyone else hurt?” she asked,
tensely.

“No, but if he’s still in the
castle it’s only a matter of time,” replied Minerva, an ugly
look on her face. “How are you at duelling spells?”

“No idea, but given our earlier discussion
it shouldn’t be too much of a problem.” Minerva gave her a
hard look; Poppy raised her eyebrows, distracted, for a moment, from their
predicament.

“I should show you some healing
spells,” she said, with genuine curiosity. “If you can master them then –”

“This is not the time, Poppy,” Minerva
interrupted, suddenly business-like. “Poppy, you head back to the infirmary,
you may be needed. Amelia, you meet Hagrid at
the main doors and help complete a sweep of the grounds.” She paused, suddenly
looking very old indeed, “and please be careful, ladies. There is a murderer
loose in our school.”

Tersely, the three witches parted
ways, each privately aware that until the convict was found their castle was at
war.